Surviving BOOTcamp - Part 2 of 9 - Arrival/Inprocessing

Dear Penpal,

As I write an account of what I have been through these past three days, tears wet the paper, so sorry for any smudging.

I met with an officer as soon as I hopped off the plane and grabbed my bags. I was hoping to see someone... how do you say 'welcoming' but that's not the impression I got as he led me to a bus. Upon boarding, I found that eveyone on the bus had shaved heads. Not one of them on the whole bus ride to the camp sang one single song! To say the least it was the most boring ride I have ever been on.

As if that wasn't bad enough, when the bus stopped, a man who looked eerily similar to the officer that escorted me, began to scream at us. Either both of them wore the same thing everyday or it was the same person. Both of them were wearing green uniforms with metals and such dangeling about along with a smokey-the-bandit hat, which seemed to tip so far almost covering their eyes completly.

"WELCOME TO BOOTCAMP! AS OF RIGH NOW I AM YOUR COMPANY COMMANDER! YOU WILL REPLY TO ME AS 'SIR' AND ANYTHING SHORT OF THAT WILL GET YOU INTO THE PUNISHMENT PLATOON! THE FIRST THING YOU ARE GOING TO DO IS SIT UP, SHUT UP AND TAKE YOUR HATS OFF! YOU ARE TO LOOK STRAIGHT AHEAD BUT NOT AT ME! YOU ARE GOING TO DO WHAT I SAY, WHEN I SAY IT AND EXACTLY HOW I SAY IT!"

At first I felt bad and thought he was hard of hearing. So I politely raised my hand. Upon doing so the Comapny Commander walked up to me and stared me down. Then he began to scream, "WHAT IN GOD'S GOOD NAME DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

"Sorry, sir," I began, "I was just going to ask you if you are deaf and if you are why don't you just get a hearing aid?"

His face turned crimson but was replaced with a BIG smile. He then turned and walked back to the front. The guy that I was sitting with gave me a grave look.

"NOW, EACH OF YOU IS TO REPORT TO THE INPROCESSING CENTER. YOU WILL BE GIVEN FIVE MINUTES TO REACH SAID DESTINATION AND - THANKS TO WISECRACKER OVER THERE - YOU'VE JUST WASTED THREE! GO!"

Everyone jumped up at once and fought to get out. I, however, waited and used that time to group around for my things. When everyone was off I stood up and scurried around for the "Inprocessing center", which to my amusment was actually called Terminal D.

I was late walking in and all fifty or so of the people from the bus - each sitting on a bench on either side of the room - had their noses in what I hoped to be a good novel. Everything seemed to be enshrouded in white and as I studied the place I heard the sound of footsteps, which echoed off of the white-brick walls. To my amazement it was the deaf guy - I mean the Company Commander. He stormed up to me, got as close to my face as he could almost touching my glasses, and yelled, "YOU IMBREAD! YOU SCUM! YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE BOY? YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE A MOCKERY OF ME? AFTER YOU'VE BEEN CHECKED OUT YOU ARE TO REPORT TO MY OFFICE, YOU HEAR?"

"Yes, sir, and just to clear the record though I never said any of those things about you. I'm sorry if I've offended you but you've been misinformed. I just wasn't sure if you could hear well or not due to the loudness of your voice."

"GET DOWN AND GIVE ME TWENTY, FOUREYES!"

"Twenty what?" I puzzeled.

"PUSHUPS YOU MORON!"

I chuckled at the thought, "Yeah, sir I've NEVER been able to do twenty pushups in my life. Not even in gym."

"DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME TWENTY, NOW!"

By the look in his eyes I could tell he wasn't kidding this time so I dropped my bags and tried to do twenty pushups. I was happy when I did five and stopped, thinking he was going to be happy that I did that many. When I stood up he pointed at the ground and yelled, "I SAID TWENTY! SINCE YOU STOPPED START OVER! NOW, GIVE ME TWENTY."

Many minutes later - while everyone else was getting "checked out" by the nurses - I was attempting to finish my pushups in tears. I had been crying for the last ten and as soon as number twenty came I plopped to the ground, feeling like dying.

"GET UP, SCUM BAG!"

I immediatly rose to my feet this time, hoping to avoid any more screaming. Whiping my tears away the guy continued, "I WANT YOU TO MEET ME IN MY OFFICE AFTER YOUR CHECKED OUT! IF YOU'RE NOT THERE YOU WILL REGRET EVER COMMING TO BOOTCAMP!" Then the evil man shoved a book into my ribs and told me to read and memorize it whenever I wasn't doing anything.

I quickly understood that the book wasn't a novel but a boring training guide. I pretended to read it as the guards watched to see that we were doing so. Once I was called in, nurses poked me with needles, forced pills down my throat, and made me pee in a cup (how wierd)! Then they gave me these cool looking military glasses, which resembled the ones from "Revenge of the Nerds". After this I was directed to the office of the deaf guy known as the "Company Commander".

When I walked in his office (which consisted of a wooden desk and chiar accomanied by filing cabinets lining the back wall) he stood up and began to tell me how I was to report to the "Punishment Platoons". Apparently I had earned myself enough "Performance Trackers" (which is a bad thing) to put myself in the "Punishment Platoon" for a whole year. However, he was nice and going to have mercy on me so I would only have to spend the next three days there, then I would be sent back to my Company and would begin my first week of training.

So, for the next three days they made me do inhumane things. One thing they made me do was hold a rifle in a sniper position then they set a coin on it and I had to balance it there for over thirty minutes without it falling. I thought my stick arms were going to snap. They only let me sleep for four hours each night and made me wake up at 5:30 in the am to take "indoctrination" classes. That was only the beginning. They made me run two miles with no break, holding my rifle in the air. The most humiliating thing they did was make me wear a pink belt and shout some word out around the other people. By the end I was on the verge of crying.

Then I met my new huge Company Commander, Greg, who we nicknamed (behind his back of course) "Grizley Greg". He was worse than the other guy and called me all kinds of names but they didn't affect me until he called me a name that I can't stand, "Ma ma's Boy". So now I sit here in the "Squad Bay" (what we call our living quarters) in tears trying to finish this before they cut out the lights. Tomorrow starts day one. HELP ME!

Scared and alone,

A.M

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